To Kill A Poisoned Butterfly
by Arya May
Summary: He's never cared about damnation. He was damned from the moment he entered the cursed world. - Lucien Lachance/his Silencer


_**To Kill A Poisoned Butterfly**_

**A/N; So yeah, I like Lucien a lot. A lot. _A hell lot_. As such, I've come to be completely baffled at the amount of sap that people write him with when they stick him in a pairing (most commonly, LuLa/Silencer) since he's so obviously well- _insane. _Fine, maybe not insane, but er... a borderline sociopath. Come on, this is the Dark Brotherhood. How can he be normal when his Family is a cult of Death worshippers?**

**So yeah, this is Sadistic!Lucien, but I daresay, I prefer him that way~**

**EDIT: What the hell. I deleted my original post by mistake. Please forgive that minor problem! = =;**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion, nor do I The Elder Scrolls series. If I did, there would have been a Morrowind remake already.**

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He remembers being buried alive, but eventually- he grew to learn how to turn a blind eye to the souls that once haunted him. He was not a kind man- didn't understand the meaning of what others called _sympathy_ or (even worse) _compassion- _but neither was he a complete sociopath. The last time he remembered feeling the pull of his decayed moral fibre was sometime during his childhood before he joined the Brotherhood, after he had committed patricide with a dull kitchen knife.

It wasn't his fault, he's always thought- no, _knew_- _knew_ that it the only form of justice that came with the black hands of Sithis. Those who called for it needed to be offered on the altar of anti-existence. _Lucien _willed it.

His Brothers and Sisters feared him. A part of this inflated his rather large ego, but at the same time, a part of him longed for something other than the monotonous "_Yes, Speaker_"s and "_No, Speaker_"s. Arquen, that insufferable Altmer, always said that his "_overbearing_" attitude encouraged it.

(He never gave it much thought. It was better to be feared than dead.)

But there was something always off about that new recruit that they brought into Cheydinhal after she had breezed through the initiation. Maybe it was the fact that she looked at him as though he was nothing greater than her, glints of arrogance that were never found on the lowliest of Murderers. Such impudence he normally would have punished, but there was something oddly refreshing about the change.

She was a cold hearted prodigy, twice blessed by the Night Mother, and rose through the ranks like an algid morning star. Lucien, grudgingly, admitted that he was impressed- so he makes her his Silencer; his hidden blade within the shadows. She never complained, or really- spoke at all altogether, except in that hushed tone that despite being deceptively weak, held enough veiled steel to impress probably even the Listener himself.

He sees her initially as only a tool, because really- that was what they all in essence _were _to the Brotherhood. She, though probably worth her weight in Septims with potential, was still _perfectly_ expendable. In their trade, there were no such things such as _consideration _or _selflessness_. Those were feelings alien to him, no matter how much he revered his Family.

He scared her sometimes, and he knows this, _knows_ from years of experience of trying to pick apart the slightest twitch of another's expression. Underneath the dark allure of the natural Lachance charm, there was nothing but cruelty and sadistic desires. Maybe the more gentle, completely unneeded part of him (that he hasn't been able to fully destroy- _yet_) compelled him sometimes to hold her like a true lover would to another, but he's always flat out ignored it.

(Because he could ignore it, because he knew that inside, she was just like him- _black, rotting, fallen_-)

She reminds him of a fragile poisonous butterfly. Sometimes he wanted to rip her apart from wing to wing, see her crumbling body fall into the abyss with a final kiss of ice.

For, if Lucien wanted, he would do. He wanted to kill her, yet let her live. He wanted to hate her, yet possess her. He wanted to crush her with his hands while simultaneously letting her sit in them and treasure her as his and only his own.

They are the unholy children of the Night Mother, forever bound in carmine blood. Lucien does not _love _his Silencer in a way that others might describe the word. After all, they are a doomed pair- two that will forever annihilate the corresponding until their souls are devoured by the Void. Consumed. Lost.

But Lucien's never cared about damnation. He was damned from the moment he entered the cursed world.

_(And she seems to know this too, but again, she says nothing.)_

_._

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